LA

The color wheel and the western sky
The reflection of a stranger in a strange fluorescent light
There's water on the bathroom floor
A mattress for an island and a plastic sheet for shore

L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A.,
L.A., the selfish city wins again

She drives cause there’s a lot of road
And motion makes her calmer than to take it slow
The man puts on the yellow gloves
She concentrates discretely on the TV up above

L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A.,
L.A., the selfish city wins again

The windscreen is a cinema tonight
The shot of what she left behind
She sees herself in stereo

The bungalow gets a splash of sun
She opens up the front door when the man is done
Water on the bathroom floor
The tub’s been up for days now and I can’t see anymore

L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A.,
L.A., the selfish city wins again

L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A., L.A.,
L.A., the selfish city wins again
The selfish city wins again
The selfish city wins again